


Hard beginnings

by Mehdo



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mehdo/pseuds/Mehdo
Summary: This is the origin story I created for a character in a campain. It ended up taking a life of it's own as I wrote it and I like the result.





	Hard beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> TW : Though nothing is depicted too graphically (IMO), there are implications of torture, rape and sex work.

Wendy was born from the union of an Incubus named Erantar and an Aasimar named Asa. Erantar had captured her mother during a raid and kept her captive for his own amusement for years. Said amusement eventually led to a pregnancy and a daugther was born. Her father, having no interest in the child, gave her to one of his human associates, a priest of Zanbos named Terastus.

Thus began her life as a slave. During the first years, she was taken care of by another slave, but as soon as she could walk and talk properly, the acolytes of the temple of Terastus began using her for anything that struck their perverted minds. From maid to sexual partner to torture practice, they did anything and everything they could think of to her. Having known nothing else, she spent years enduring this and seeing it as normal life. They never even bothered to give her a name, taking to calling her “Wench”.

Unbeknownst to her, all who interacted with her knew that the master has expressly indicated that she was not to be permanently harmed or killed. No, he was proud of his toy and he wanted to keep this broken celestial half-blood for a long time. Her mere presence served, in his mind, as a sign of prestige.

When she was 15 years of age, the forces of Yggdrasil launched a surprise raid on the temple where she lived. An acolyte had been torturing her when the assault began and, when a warrior looking for enemies entered the room, this was how he found her: naked, tied to manacles on the wall, bleeding from multiple lash wounds on her chest and legs. “What in the name of all that is holy have they done to you! This is monstrous!” he exclaimed. Immediately rushing to release the poor thing, who could not for the life of her comprehend what was happening, the human forgot one important detail: to look around the room. Granted, she made a very stunning distraction with her copper hair, protruding red horns, red feathered wings and naked breasts. But her beauty was the well intended soldier’s downfall. The acolyte, who had cowardly been hiding in the room, crept up behind him and stabbed him in the kidney, stunning him long enough to finish the job. After many, many stabs, the acolyte unshackled his slave and ran to rejoin his master, whom he knew would be found preparing his escape. 

Indeed, he found his master in his secret chambers, prepared to teleport away to safety. But instead of rewarding his pupil by bringing him along, Terastus pushed him away, grabbed hold of Wench, and finished his spell.

The damage, however, was done. Everyone in the temple had always thought that the girl was dumb and completely broken. But she was just compliant with her fate, knowing nothing else. The warrior’s reaction to her plight and his immediately defining it as unacceptable triggered something within her. Doubt, and curiosity. Just enough for her to begin to question the normality of her life.

This did not happen within a day, or even a year. But from then on, while she remained compliant on the outside, she was constantly watching the people around her and thinking about what the warrior had said. 

She had been taught to read in order for her to be helpful during her master’s alchemical experimenting (her natural resistances were pretty useful, after all). This ability now became very useful to her. In the new temple where Terastus had retreated after the raid, there was a library. At night, she began to sneak out of her room and read everything she could put her hands on. Of particular interest to her was discovering that there was a whole world outside of the temple, and that there were other gods, other ways of living, and many other fascinating things.  
At first, this was just curiosity and she said nothing to anyone. Her upbringing had made her a very pondered and patient person. Eventually, she encountered such ideas as torture being wrong, sexual relations being pleasant and slavery being banned in most parts of the world. It might sound surprising that she would find such ideas in books found in a temple dedicated to an evil god, but Terastus simply thought that every book they managed to steal made his library seem bigger and thus more impressive.

Armed with this new knowledge, one night when she was about 19 years old (4 years after the attack – she was indeed patient), she asked her master about the outside world. The response was as immediate as it was violent. He slapped her hard enough to knock her to her feet, told her to never speak of such things again and that slaves such as her did not even deserve to think of freedom and then proceeded to violate her worse than he ever had before.

From this, she learned not to speak about her inner thoughts and turmoil. She also began to see her master, who had up until now seemed like an almost god like being, as flawed. He had lost control. He had been irrational. He was imperfect. And if he was, what he said could also be. And thus her questioning deepened.  
Many years later, after having perused most of the content of the library, she decided that her captivity was wrong. She knew also that she would never be allowed to leave. And thus she formulated a plan.

And so one night, when she was about 23 years old, she went to her master’s chambers when beckoned. She found him at his desk, reading. Coming up to him, she undressed as was expected, went to her knees and waited. After a few minutes, he closed up the book he was reading, turned to look at her and said: “Good, you’re here. Now, I have need of you in my laboratory today. But first”, he said as he rose up to stand in front of her, “I wish to have you. On the desk, now.” She obeyed as usual, sitting on the desk and spreading her legs. Terastus disrobed and approached her, already fully prepared to have her. Letting him in, not looking at him directly, she felt her heart pound madly. She could not give away that anything was awry this night, that anything was different. She must not fail. Her freedom was at stake!

She knew he wouldn’t be long. When he was this “ready” for her, it usually meant a quick release and then he was done. Still, she felt like her heart would burst out of her chest before he was done. 

“What’s wrong. You seem flushed and you are sweating. Oh my, are you actually enjoying this?”, he asked, misunderstanding what was happening. He slapped her across the face. “Ones such as you don’t get to enjoy themselves. Calm yourself or I’ll have to teach you some manners. Later.”

She turned her head away, acting cowed. This had the effect or arousing the high priest even more, and he climaxed within seconds. And that was the moment when she struck!  
Earlier that day, she had snuck into his laboratory and prepared a concoction of the most violent poison available. She knew all his books, after all, and she had known what she would mix before she even entered the room. Then she had coated a small needle she used for sewing the acolyte’s clothes and hid it in her dress. While she was kneeling, she has switched it to her left hand. She struck him in the side of the belly, where the flesh was soft. He barely had time to register the movement and the puncture before the effects began to manifest. Within a second or two, he began to feel dizzy. Then his whole body began to feel numb, and he promptly crumpled to the ground, immobilized. His breathing became ragged and only his eyes moved. And they showed such shock! He was so stunned at this attack that he could not even begin to formulate a thought as to the reason for it. She was broken, obedient, perfect!  
She stared at him impassively, waiting for him to die. When his eyes stopped moving, she checked his pulse, a gesture she learned from the acolytes after they thought they had gone too far with her torture. And then she got up, took his traveling cloak and a dagger she knew would be hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk, and left the room. She didn’t feel remorse, because she had discovered in her reading that her master was what some people called “evil” and that, according to them, evil deserved no pity.

Nobody stopped her. After all, she had the master’s cloak on with the hood up and nobody ever dared bother the master when his hood was up. Reaching the door to the outside, she hesitated. It was forbidden for her to even be in this hallway, much less near the door. Her eyes had never even seen what was outside of this massive wooden barricade.

Steeling herself, pushing the door open, she closed her eyes and walked out. Then, realizing she could not keep walking forward without seeing, she forcefully opened her eyes. A forest, or at least she thought this was a forest from the books she had read. “No time to think, I need to get away.”, she told herself. And so she followed the overgrown trail under her feet. She started by walking, then accelerated into a brisk walk and soon she was jogging. She needed to get as far away from this place as possible before her deed was discovered. She was afraid they would find out, catch her, and bring her back. In fact, she had never been afraid in her life, and this feeling of panic turned her flight into a mad dash. Her eyes were wet, tear falling down, her heart was beating furiously, her lungs burned, and she could not understand why. But she ran. And ran.

Eventually, out of breath and unable to run, she stopped. Leaning forward against a tree, trying to look around to get her bearings, she discovered that she was not on the trail anymore. Not knowing where she was, she began to feel a different kind of panic. She was alone and she did not know what to do next. When the noise of her own heart pounding in her ears abated, she heard a noise in the distance. Intrigued, she went towards it and found a small stream lazily flowing through the trees. Finally feeling her own thirst, she fell on her knees for the second time today, but this time out of joy. She drank until she was full, and then, too tired to care, she simply collapsed on the mossy ground and fell asleep.

She woke up later to sounds she had never heard before. High pitched, beautiful, she would later learn those were bird calls. Remembering suddenly what she was fleeing, she promptly made the decision to follow the water. She had seen maps and knew that cities were usually situated along those. The day went by with her constantly being stunned by the beauty of all these new things she was seeing. Ants, squirrels, a blue sky, a vast field of tall grass. So many sights, in fact, that she lost track of time and did not even feel her hunger, not having eaten at all since yesterday.

Luck must have been with her because she had chosen the correct direction along the river and found the village of Bardo by evening. Entering, excited that she would finally meet people other than the disciples of Zanbos, she was surprised to discover that nobody would even look at her. She tried to approach someone, only to have them turn and walk away. After a few tries, she gave up, miserable. Hiding in an alley, she sat down against a wall and started crying. She was hungry, sure, but she was mostly just sad because she had imagined people being different than this. This rejection hit her to her core, and she felt like just giving up.

It was at this particular low moment that a woman came up to her and asked : “Are you okay dear? Do you need help?” She looked up to a plump middle aged woman with curly brown hair and a big smile on her face and said “I … I … I don’t know.” and broke down in tear again. “Well,” said the woman offering her a hand to help her stand up, “let me help you then. You look like you could use a meal and a warm fire.”

After the food, she slept for almost an entire day. She woke up in the most comfortable bed she had ever been in in her entire life. Getting dressed in a beautiful red dress left for her on the foot of the bed, she got out of her room and followed a corridor into a small cozy dining room. 

She was greeted there by the lady from the previous night. “Well now, you seem all better dear. I’m Nelly. What’s your name?”, she said, smiling. “People have always called me Wench.”, she shrugged back, “So I guess that’s my name?” Nelly, pity in her eyes, answered: “Oh dear, you poor thing. We can’t call you that! That’s not a name, that’s an insult!” Taking hold of her by both shoulders, the older woman said: “Never let anyone call you that again. If anyone dared call one of mine that,”, her eyes narrowing at the point, “someone would find themselves in a lot of pain.” And then, her eyes lit up, and she said: “I know, we can call you Wendy. What do you think?” Her eyes moist, she replied “Wendy. That is beautiful. I love it.” 

Then, her face turned sour, confusion written all over it. “Why did you come and help me? Everyone else I tried to talk to turned away. Am I that horrible to look at?”, she asked. Nelly surprised her with a smile, answering “No, Wendy. It was your clothing. That cloak you were wearing, where did you get that?” Not wanting to reveal too much to this stranger, even if she was being nice, the girl turned away and simply said, evasively, “some … somewhere.” 

“Hmm-mm”, answered the woman. “Look dear, I won’t pry.” And, turning around, she tossed the cloak into the fireplace, where it promptly burst into bluish flames. “Now. I’m going to give you a choice. And I won’t lie to you like some others would in my position. I will tell you exactly what that choice is.”, Nelly began, sitting down and offering Wendy a seat of her own.  
“I can help you out of whatever troubles you just came out of, and not ask any questions about it because, frankly, it’s none of my business. You look like you could use a hand, and I’m a nice person like that with people who are in trouble.”, she continued. “If that is all you want, then you can spend a few days here and be on your way.”

“But !”, she said, raising a finger in the air dramatically, “if you want to be able to provide for yourself and have some control over your life” she said, and then lowered her tone to finish, “then we may be able to do business together.”

And this was how Wendy started working in a brothel. She was living more comfortably than she ever had, the work itself was easy compared to her earlier life and after a while she even learned she could actually enjoy herself while doing it. And a most intriguing sensation that was! Most importantly though, everyone treated her with respect, something she had never felt before. That sensation, even more than the other one, made her happy.

During the next few months, she became friends with her mentor and learned a lot about people, life among them and, of course, she learned a lot about sexuality. She had a lot to learn, in fact, but she impressed everyone by how quick of a study she was and how natural she was at it. She remained vague about her past, but everyone suspected. It was hard to miss. Her body was, when undressed, covered with scars. Literally hundreds of them, some old and some recent. You could see burns, cuts and holes all over her skin, except for her face, neck and hands. Those were immaculate. And yet, somehow, she was so beautiful that those actually only seemed to enhance her beauty. She seemed resilient, impervious to anything the world could throw at her. She made many friends, both amongst the other girls and her regular clients.

Afraid at first that her old captors would come for her, she learned that she had in her flight crossed over the border between Neraka and Yggdrasil and that this village, though small, saw many travellers and thus was well protected against the other side. She still doubted this, but after months passed with no sign of pursuit, she relaxed.

A year later, after much pondering, she decided she wanted to see more of the world. Learn more. Live more. After a long conversation with Nelly, she decided to go to the city of Valhalla. Nelly recommended a trusted friend in the city that was in the same line of work so that she could continue to provide for herself there. 

A few letters were exchanged, situations explained and an agreement settled. And then all that was left to do was say her goodbyes. This proved to be a new experience for her, because she had never had friends, let alone left any behind. Later, during her coach ride to her new destination, she mused to herself: “Friendship. I would have never though, just a few years back, that it existed or that it could feel so good.”

Arriving a few days later in the capital city, she was greeted by Selinda, Nelly’s friend. The agreement they had reached went as follows: she would have rooms provided and could work whenever and as much or as little as she liked. This had seemed strange to Selinda at first, but she trusted her old friend and she had been promised that it would still be worth her while.  
When she saw Wendy, she immediately agreed. A thin wisp of a woman, she could not weight more than a hundred pounds. 5’6” tall with tan skin, those alone would have made her pretty by most standards. But she was far from ordinary. Her wavy, waist length hair was copper colored and had a clear metallic sheen to it. She could see two tiny red recurved horns poke out from under the hair on the sides of here head. Her eyes were an astounding pale pink color, very vivid and seemingly bottomless. She could also see two wings poke out from each side of the young woman’s back, blood red feathers that extended to her knees and must expand to at least 6 feet across when spread open. Even though the woman looked very thin, she could see a pair of breast poke out of her shirt, very generous proportions for one of her size. Finally, there were the details she could not see right now but would learn about later. Down feathers of the same red colors covered her shoulders and hips, and a demonic looking red tail adorned her backside, eighteen inches long and about two inches wide at the base. Indeed, this woman was one of the most exotic and strange beauty she had seen in a long time. Her mere presence would attract clients. Yes, worth her while indeed.

During the next few years, Wendy expanded her horizons with a bit of combat training suited for her particular skills. She also came to realise how messed up her earlier life had been and developed a deep seeded hatred for the idea of rape and torture.

Now, she plans on trying the adventurer’s life, both because she wants to live new and exciting experiences and because she wants opportunities to find and punish followers of Zanbos and their like.


End file.
